


apologies won't save your soul

by SugarFey



Category: Marvel Cinematic Universe, The Avengers (Marvel Movies)
Genre: F/M, Very slight spoilers for Captain America: The Winter Soldier
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2014-04-07
Updated: 2014-04-07
Packaged: 2018-01-18 12:28:52
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 617
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/1428532
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/SugarFey/pseuds/SugarFey
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>
  <i>“I was wondering how long it’d be before you showed up.”</i>
</p>
<p>
  <i>“Not like I’ve got anywhere else to go."</i>
</p>
<p>Clint wakes with the light and he knows. No one else could sneak into his safe house like that.</p>
            </blockquote>





	apologies won't save your soul

**Author's Note:**

> This is a little off the cuff ficlet to work out some of the feelings I've been having after Captain America: The Winter Soldier. There are references to spoilers for the film, but nothing overt. It's unbetaed, so any mistakes are my own.

Clint wakes the moment the lamp by the couch turns on. He stiffens, his fingers instinctively reaching for the knife under his pillow. After a moment the fog of sleep clears from his mind and that’s when he realises. It’s her; it has to be. No one else in the world could sneak into his safe house undetected like that.

He tries to focus on regulating his breathing, but the adrenaline rush is still too strong. Slowly, he drags himself into a sitting position, his heart kicking an aching rhythm against his chest.

“Saw you on the news,” he manages, and hates that he sounds so hoarse. “I was wondering how long it’d be before you showed up.”

Natasha looks thinner than he remembers. She’s folded into the corner of the couch, her knees tucked under her chin and her hands hidden within the sleeves of a grey hoodie. “Not like I’ve got anywhere else to go,” she says, her green eyes studying him. “You could’ve called.”

“Figured you’d have ditched your cell by now.”

She gives a little shrug, but her harsh stare remains, as if she’s sizing up an opponent. Maybe she is. “True. But the thought would count.”

Clint keeps his eyes on her and rises to his feet, telegraphing every movement like he used to back in the early days when he woke up to find she’d snuck into his room at the SHIELD barracks. He takes a careful step forward and when she doesn’t react, he crosses the short distance from the bed to the couch and sits down at the far end, keeping as much space between them as he can, though he isn’t sure for whose benefit. “I know. I’m sorry I wasn’t there.”

“Me too,” she murmurs, so soft he barely catches it.

He rests his elbows on his knees and tries to ignore the way his hands shake. “You changed your hair.”

“Yeah. Kind of a post-‘my partner left and didn’t even leave a note on the fridge’ sort of thing.”

“Ouch.” Clint hangs his head, unable to look directly at her. Her red hair burns brightly in the corner of his vision like a flare. He used to watch for a glimpse of her hair out in the field, fluttering in his scope like a bloody flag among the wreckage. “I’m sorry about… For taking off like that, I mean. I know I don’t deserve forgiveness.”

“You had your reasons,” she answers flatly, tugging at her sleeve.

“I could’ve gone about it better.”

Natasha tilts her head towards him and unfolds her legs. “That’s a bit of a theme with you, isn’t it?”

The chill in her voice stings as much as her words, because he knows he deserves it. He wants to tell her about the emails he started and deleted, the nights he spent staring at her name in his phone, but none of it is adequate. “Nat, I’m…”

“Sorry, I know.” Natasha moves her right shoulder and winces. “Can you hold off on the apologies for now? No offence, but I’ve had a pretty shit week and I really want to sleep.”

“Sor—“ Clint goes to say automatically, but stops himself just in time. “Okay. I’ll get you a blanket.”

He means, _are you okay_ and _can I make it better_ and _I missed you;_ means _I’m lost_ and _I can’t sleep_ and _I’d give up my hands and my sight and my aim for you and I’m so fucking sorry._ But they don’t say those things to each other, never have and probably never will.

He pulls the quilt off his bed and lays it over her, and hopes that will say enough.

**Works inspired by this one:**

  * [Sew Your Fortunes On A String](https://archiveofourown.org/works/1510889) by [SugarFey](https://archiveofourown.org/users/SugarFey/pseuds/SugarFey)




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